The Wistful Witness
The letter from the City Council arrived on a Tuesday, its seal cracked and smelling faintly of stale tobacco. Major Elias Thorne read it twice, his face a mask of rigid indifference, before he folded it into his breast pocket. He was to oversee the demolition of Blackwood Palace by Friday, a task designed to clear the site for the new industrial rail line and, crucially, to save his career...
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